One-shot
by Niera12
Summary: Galatie ran that night looking for freedom, but instead she found herself in a contract with a demon. (This is just an idea of mine that I may or may not continue and I wanted to share with you all)


**A/N: Just so you know, this is set in the late 1700s/early 1800s America, so before Ciel was born which is why he is not in this (nor would he be mentioned if I ever continued the story). Also, the main character, Galatie, is a slave. And if you didn't catch it in the series, demons have their masters choose their names for them which is why Sebastian has a different name.**

She could hear the dogs, howling and barking, their growls right in her ears. They were far away, but it felt like they were close enough to bite her head off. That alone made her want to scream.

"Girl!" one of the men yelled out. "When I find you your ass is mine!"

Hot tears were streaming down Galatie's face, but she didn't even feel them, nor the stinging cuts the passing branches left on her face. Her breathing came out in pants and her chest ached, as well as her feet and legs. The only thing that kept her going was adrenaline. Without that she would have broken down a long time ago.

_Please, Lord, please, _she thought, continuing to pray to God. She had been since she started running. Why hadn't he responded to her? She had never done anything ill by him. Where _was _he? She _needed _him and she needed him right _now_.

A gunshot ripped through the air, scaring Galatie enough to make her let out a squeal. She clamped a hand down over her mouth, and glancing back briefly before turning and continuing to run. The trees weren't as thick as she wanted them to be. If it was the day time he would have been spotted immediately. Thankfully with how dark it was and her dark skin, it would take the men a moment to spot her, just so long as she kept quiet enough on her feet.

A few minutes passed before she heard what she had prayed not to: "I think I see the bitch!"

He wasn't that far.

Another gunshot was heard, and a bullet zipped past her ear, making her scream. One of the men behind her laughed.

"Yeah, that's her all right. Get 'er!"

The dogs got louder and more aggressive. If that wasn't worse, the gun was fired again, and this time the bullet ripped through her side. She cried out in pain, holding the wound. The dogs got worse. Galatie tried to push herself at full speed, but the adrenaline only worked so much. It was beginning to wear off, and the wound didn't help. She was starting to slow down.

_Please, Lord, please!_

The only warning was a bark.

A dog jumped at her, clamping its jaw down on her calf. She screamed again and turned to kick the dog away, but she didn't notice the hill in font of her.

Galatie tumbled down the steep face of the hill, letting out pained gasps. She finally came to a stop at the bottom, laying in a pained heap on the ground. It seemed all her energy had left her, for she couldn't even push herself up.

The dog growled. It had let go of her leg as they both fell down the hill. She didn't even have to see it to know it was close to her. She wondered if its muzzle was bloody. She wondered if she was going to die.

The dog slowly approached her, seemed to be taking its time. Galatie just closed her eyes, waiting for its teeth.

She heard the dog jump and bark, and she could picture it in her head. A ferocious looking thing with her blood dripping down its chin, maybe even a bit of her skin stuck between its bared teeth. It was in the air, and it was going to come down fast.

In mid growl the dog suddenly gave out a pained yelp. Normally the sound made her cringe, but now...good riddance, whatever happened to the damned beast.

Someone clicked their tongue, and Galatie knew it was the men.

"I _detest _dogs," a man said, though he didn't sound like one of the ones who had been chasing her. They had a normal southern accent. This man sounded foreign, like some of the men from across the water in places like France and England. He spoke with a professional air about him.

Galatie felt the man behind her, and she began to shake like a scared little dog. Surely she was going to get it now.

"Now, now, no need to be scared," the man said, a bitter chuckle going along with his words. "Look at me."

Galatie stayed quiet and shaking, acting almost as if she hadn't heard him.

"I said, _look at me_." His voice was threatening, but it was also calm. Not like Master Christophe. If he said "look at me" in a threatening way, he was sure to be yelling. This man's calm tone scared her worse than Master Christophe's yelling.

Galatie slowly uncurled herself and turned, over, opening her eyes. She let out a small, shocked gasp when she saw only black. She found she couldn't feel the ground, either, or anything for that matter. She felt as though she was floating. Had she died?

A pair of menacing pink-colored eyes stared at her in the darkness along with mouth formed in a Cheshire grin. The eyes and mouth looked like they belonged to a human man, but at the same time there were inhuman things about them, such as the slits in the eyes and the canine teeth that were too sharp for a normal person.

"Who are you?" Galatie asked in a small voice. Surprisingly, she felt very calm.

"I? I am the demon you called upon."

Galatie gave the face a confused look. She hadn't called on a demon at all. What she'd called on was God!

"But God –"

"Your faith in him is what called me here. It was nonexistent."

Galatie's mouth was left open in mid sentence. It...was true. In the moments before the dog had lunged for her, she had given up on everything, especially God.

"The fast that you have summoned me will not change for eternity," the demon continued to say. "Now, it is your choice whether to make a contract with a demon and have your wishes granted, or not. If you chose to make the contract, you can never got to Heaven."

Galatie's blood ran cold. Never go to Heaven? Why would she ever want to make a deal like that?

The demon seemed to read her thoughts. "I can do anything you ask of me," he said. "I'm capable of killing a man in under a second, and I'm faster than even sound." He paused for a moment. "You're a slave, aren't you?"

Galatie hesitated. "Yes."

"I can get you to freedom, up in the North. Isn't that what you want?"

Galatie's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Yes, she wanted to get up North and be rid of the plantations and lashings forever, but to never go to Heaven...and to contract a demon...?

Then again, she probably wouldn't have to be the only one of her family to get to safety. She could bring her whole family with her. Her mother, her father, her sister and brothers, her children and grandfather, and she could even find her husband and bring him, too. She couldn't do all of that on her own. That was already apparent from the way this night had went.

"You can help me get m' family up North?" she asked quietly.

"Yes."

"I...I...will make the contract." A feeling of dread washed over her, but if was for her family then even being tortured in Hell was worth it.

"Alright. Now, let us mark our bodies with the contract seal. The more visible the place where your seal is, the stronger its power. Now, where would you like it?"

Galatie had to think about this for a moment. What was some place that she could easily cover up? She didn't need the contract to be strong, she just needed it to be done. The seal would have to be hidden.

Her mind went to her bullet wound. No one would dare touch it as long as it was taken care of. It could be well hidden by her shirt, she thought.

"My side," she said. "I got shot. Put it where I was shot."

"As you wish."

A hand as white as the pearls Mistress Bethany wore around her neck at parties shot out from the black and gripped Galatie's side. Suddenly the blackness was gone and all the pain returned, as well as the feeling of a searing hot branding iron on her wound. She screamed out, but the man clamped his other hand around her mouth, not removing it until the searing pain was gone.

"Up," he said, lifting her onto her feet.

Galatie took this time to look at his features. He was a white man, probably one of the whitest she'd seen, and very tall. He had jet black hair (so she thought) that hung past his chin. His eyes were now red and had regular pupils instead of slits, but they weren't any less menacing. His face was handsome and angular, but also very intimidating. He himself gave off an intimidating feeling.

"Now, mistress, what will you name me?" he asked.

"You ain't got one?" Galatie asked. What person didn't have a name?

"No," the demon said, shaking his head.

Galatie thought for a moment. What was a good name for a man like this?

Her mind went back to an old white man she knew when she was little. Octavius Elmer. He would visit the plantation occasionally to see Master Christophe, and he seemed to take an unusal liking to the slaves, especially the children. He gave them treats they never should have had and showed them such alien kindness.

"Octavius Elmer," she said. "That will be your name."

The demon – man – now named Octavius, bowed his head.

"Where the bitch go?" Galatie flinched. She'd forgotten all about her pursuers.

"Ah," Octavius glanced up the top of the hill, his eyes seeming to glow for a moment. "They must be the ones who shot you. Shall I take care of them?"

"Please, but don' kill 'em," Galatie said. "They don' deserve it."

Octavius gave a thoughtful hum. "I'll be back, mistress," he said before seeming to vanish into thin air. Moments later Galatie heard the men scream.


End file.
